


Enclosed

by TinyFakeFanficRock



Series: Ad meliora [13]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Claustrophobia, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Holding Hands, Secrets, Tribal Courier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 19:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17689322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyFakeFanficRock/pseuds/TinyFakeFanficRock
Summary: Two people, one elevator, lots of things going unsaid.





	Enclosed

They should have taken the fucking stairs. Mel pressed her hand to the wall beside the now-unresponsive panel of elevator buttons and fought down the urge to punch it. Keely _had_ warned them that despite her repair work, the elevator's parts had not weathered the centuries well.

But they were exhausted after battling five floors of horrifying plant-people. Four of them, Mel included, were also still waiting for stimpaks to finish working. So they decided to take the elevator, but cautiously, only two of them at a time. Raul and Veronica went up first, then Cass and Arcade, leaving Mel and Craig for the last trip.

Which is when the damn thing jerked and froze between levels, and the doors wouldn't give no matter what she tried to wedge between them. The others reassured them through the emergency intercom that they were working on getting them out, but by now Mel barely heard them. She pressed her back against the light blue plastic paneling -- of course it was that color -- and slid down to sit on the floor. She couldn't stretch out her legs. All she could think about was the freezer, the thing that had taught her to fear her husband _especially_ when he bore gifts.

\---

Not long after midday, Raven jumped when the door opened, and froze in fear as two young Legionaries carried an enormous white chest inside. What were they doing here? Should she hide? Her husband was going to be furious when he discovered other men had been here in his absence.

But then his voice came from behind them, directing them to the kitchen, and she exhaled heavily, despising herself once again for feeling any relief at his presence. She picked up a fresh handful of wool and returned to spinning, only to be interrupted moments later.

"Corva! Come see what I've brought you."

Her husband led her to the kitchen, where the chest now sat against the wall opposite the stove, a thick black cord connecting it to the wall. He gestured for her to open it, and she had only a moment to steel herself and wonder what terrible thing awaited her inside before lifting the lid.

To her surprise, she saw only two empty compartments, one large, one small, both lined in pale turquoise plastic. Oh, this was a _gev-ki_ ; it just opened at the top instead of in the front like the tall ones at Rock Springs.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked her.

"It's a --" Raven pulled herself up short before the Ironwood word left her mouth and got her slapped. "A box that keeps things cold."

"A freezer," he told her magnanimously, as if the word were part of the gift. Only the small compartment still worked, he informed her, but she could now purchase multiple days' worth of meat at once and keep it safely for some time.

The larger compartment, though, she was to keep empty. That puzzled her; it seemed a waste of space, but still she thanked him with genuine gratitude. She disliked going to the market -- so many people who all avoided her for fear they'd be killed like Paeta or Plancus -- and now could go less often. And for a few weeks, that was all the freezer was: an unexpected boon like the books he sometimes left beside her mending basket.

Then the Legate returned from a northern campaign and her husband received another invitation to his house. That night Raven picked at her dinner, barely tasting what little she ate.

He finished his own meal and watched her slow, small bites for a few moments more before snapping, "Enough. Clean up."

She threw herself into the task as one last thing between herself and the Legate's house. Once the kitchen was spotless, she began reorganizing the pantry until her husband grabbed her arm to stop her. "You're stalling. You always do when it's time to visit the Legate."

She held her silence; nothing she could say to that would help her.

"Do you dislike these excursions?"

Lying was useless. "I do, husband," she said quietly and braced for the inevitable blow.

But it didn't come. "Would you prefer to wait here until I return?" he asked her, voice surprisingly mild.

"Yes, please," she said with great relief.

Her husband led her to the kitchen. "You'll wait here," he told her warmly, and that was fine; she had a book in a drawer here and --

She hadn't even finished the thought before he was on her. He scooped her up, bent her double, and dumped her into the large compartment of the freezer, folding her legs in after her before she could so much as react. He closed the lid with a _thud_ , and then a heavier one followed. She should have known it was a trap. Any choice he gave her was always a trap.

"I'll give the Legate's girls your regrets," he told her cheerfully.

She listened to his retreating footsteps and then dared to push up on the lid with her shins; there wasn't enough room for her to use her feet. No luck. He'd put something on top of it, something she couldn't budge. She was trapped. Fighting it more would just use up air. Her awkward position, knees up by her chin, was keeping her breaths shallow, so now she just had to work on slowing them down. But would conserving air do her any good?

How long before he returned? How long before she died?

\---

There was nowhere to move -- _trapped_ \-- and nothing she could do -- _trapped_ , -- so Mel focused on her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeat. Slower. _Come on, you can do slower than that._ "I'm okay," she said aloud in hopes of convincing herself it was true. And after a few more breaths, she had indeed cleared her head enough to consider the problem Craig posed here.

His eyes were hidden as always, but it was obvious he was watching her intently now. The way he noticed things frightened her. He had to know by now she was a liar, even if he hadn't guessed why she lied. It was only a matter of time before he pinned her to a wall and demanded the truth, and it would be trivially easy for him to overpower her in this confined space without anyone to intervene on her behalf. When he knelt at her side, pressed a palm over the intercom microphone, and leaned in to speak, her throat started to close even though his free hand remained at his side. "You're not actually okay," he murmured, and then she felt like she could breathe again.

Mel appreciated his discretion at least as much as his concern, so she decided to give him as much of the truth as she dared. "You're right. Years ago I got trapped in a freezer. I don't know how long it was before someone came along to let me out. I thought I'd suffocate. There's more room -- and more air -- in here, but it looks pretty similar."

"Damn. That'd do it. But we're gonna get out." He sat down beside her, knees drawn up like hers, broad hands resting on them unmoving. Craig rarely fidgeted. It must be the sniper training; movement _was_ an easy thing to spot.

She, on the other hand, didn't really know how to be still. When she was growing up, there was always something to do even when they weren't on the move. And after that, it was wise to keep her hands busy at all times, so the habit hadn't died. Mel wished she could spin to pass the time, but her spindle and wool were back at the Lucky 38. _From now on, no matter how short the trip, I will always bring some handwork,_ she vowed, and simply slid her hands out of her lap and onto her knees. Her nails caught on the fabric of her pants, and she looked down to discover that she'd broken two of them. Probably while she tried to pry open the elevator doors in the first rush of panic -- _trapped_ \-- _fuck_.

"Hey," Craig said, then faltered a moment, as if he'd gotten her attention before he'd gotten his words together. "Um, how'd it go with Martina?"

"Cass got her in with a caravan headed to Redding. Veronica picked out new clothes for her and sweet-talked Sergio into dyeing her hair. I gave her an old magazine that had a list of baby names and suggested she pick out a new one to use for a while. I don't know if it'll be enough, but we gave her the best chance we could." That was only a few days ago, but it felt so far away -- everything outside this terrible box did. Her breath sped, and she forced herself to slow it again.

Again, Craig broke the silence before it could settle. "You ever been to Redding?"

"Only once, when I covered the Big Circle route for someone else. My usual run was down south. Dayglow, by way of The Hub." _Was_ , she'd said -- had she already given herself up for dead? She dug her fingers into her knees. No, _no_ , she said it because nothing in her life was "usual" anymore. God, this was pathetic. She'd stayed calm facing Caesar himself not even a week ago and a damned broken elevator had her falling apart.

"I did basic in Redding. All the brahmin made it kind of a big version of where I grew up." Why was Craig _talking_ this much? And why was he watching her so closely? Did he know she'd gone through his things, that she already knew where he was from, and was just waiting to see if she'd give that away?

Coward that she was, she couldn't bring herself to confess, and feigned ignorance to avoid the trap. "Where's that?"

"Oak Creek. Northeast of Sac-Town." He paused again, then said, "Never been to Dayglow. What's it like?"

"There's a really irradiated Pre-War place nearby with lots of stuff to dig out, so it's a prospecting town, and most of the people are ghouls. There's a bar there where people go to talk about way back when, or places they've searched. Buying a round will get you some great stories. And there's a market full of all kinds of stuff they've dug up. Lot of fancy technology and little pieces of things." Craig still looked interested, like he was waiting to hear more, but Mel lacked the expertise to say much more than that about the parts market. She could, however, describe the journey from Dayglow to The Hub, lingering on the part that brought her close to the coastline and the sound of the waves. She even described the sight of the ocean, which usually intimidated her with its vastness. Right now, though, that didn't seem so bad.

She talked until she needed to rest her voice, and Craig offered his canteen. They each took a few sips, he stowed it, and then the lights blinked several times, leaving her shaking. _Oh, please, please stay on,_ she begged them silently, _please don't make this any more like the freezer._

Beside her, Craig moved his hand from his knee onto hers on her own knee, asking with a headtilt _This okay?_

To her surprise, it was. More than okay, even; it felt welcome, warm, grounding. She turned her palm up and curled her fingers loosely around his hand, careful not to scratch him with the ragged edges of her broken nails. They sat like that for a while, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand, steady and soothing, and she realized why he'd kept her talking: he was trying to keep her calm.

She showed him weakness that he could have immediately used to hurt her, to get answers from her, and instead he'd offered her comfort. He was a better friend than she deserved. And, while they were still stuck down here, she might as well stop being a craven little shit and tell him the truth. "Craig, I have to tell you something. The night I met you, I went into your room and went through your things. I just -- I had to be sure you hadn't killed Carla yourself."

He pulled back his hand, a sick look on his face. She would have, too, in his place: he had trusted her with his pain and she had immediately betrayed him. God, would he even want to speak to her again? What if he left? That shouldn't have made her feel so desolate -- she could take care of herself; she even had other friends now -- but she was already babbling. "I'm sorry, Craig. I can't believe now that I thought that of you, but at the time I just didn't know and I was afraid you wanted me to frame someone and --"

"No. It's not that." He looked around them and took a deep, shuddering breath, palm flat to the wall as though _he_ were now the one feeling trapped. "Mel, I can't blame you because I --"

Then the lights flickered again, and the elevator jerked to life with a massive jolt, pulling them back up. She and Craig both reflexively clutched onto the nearest handhold: each other.

That was probably why Cass greeted them, "Hey, lovebirds," but Mel didn't care, too busy scrambling to her feet and lunging forward into the enormous-seeming expanse of hallway behind her. 

She distantly heard Craig snap, "Knock that shit off," and realized she'd left her pack in the elevator. When she returned for it, she saw that he'd already brought it out for her.

"Well, if you're okay enough to be pissy at me," Cass told him good-naturedly, "you're okay enough to get the hell out of here. C'mon."

Mel was only too happy to oblige, and didn't stop moving until she emerged into one of the more beautiful sunsets she'd ever seen. But she was forgetting something very important, and turned to Craig, the only one who'd kept pace with her. "Thank you," she murmured. It seemed like so little to say for all his kindness in there.

He waved her off, some of the pain from earlier in the elevator back on his face. She wanted to ask what he'd been about to tell her, but the others were catching up.

"They're fine, right?" she heard Arcade ask from the Vault entrance.

Even without seeing her friend, Mel could hear the smirk in Cass's reply. "Yeah. They were even still dressed."

"But were they kissing?" Veronica whispered, but not quietly enough.

Cass's tone soured. "No." Mel distinctly heard the clink of caps, followed by Cass muttering to the others, "The way they were lookin' at each other, though, if we'd taken ten more minutes I'd have won that bet."

She ducked her head, glad the dusk was hiding her blush. This was really getting out of hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Up next, the truth actually, finally, comes out.


End file.
